Breeze on the Meadow

Moo? Morning arrived, and I felt a cool gust brushing through the gap of the cracked balcony glass door. Real highland cattle must face the wild mountain winds. I marched over on my plush hooves to investigate. Right by the door stood a silver metal watering can next to a small wooden stool. I leaned in and tapped the curved metal spout with my horn, producing a gentle chime. The breeze fluttered my fluffy fur as I planted all four feet firmly on the wooden threshold, tilting my snout up toward the sky. Moooo! Standing tall against the great breeze proves I am truly born for the hillside.